Thoughts on September 16th

by Lucy S.

I should be writing about so many things, but I haven't been, and now it's six short or long years since Rose died as of today, and I feel I should write something,  I've read Emerson writing about losing his young son, and how you somehow can't get close to these losses, how existence goes on.... and, oh, I should just go grab my Emerson book, but i'm tired because I have to get up in five and a half hours, so I'll let that somewhat sloppy paraphrasing suffice.  Sometimes that old "why" question pounds on in my mind, like now...  Sometimes I still cry. Sometimes the pain is dull.  Sometimes I feel new variations of missing her, because it has just been so damn long.  It just gets to be so very long since we've talked with these lost ones. I wonder how the old people manage all that yearning and loss a lifetime will finally fill you with.

Just the other day, Jonathan was saying how "Angel Baby," that OLD song by Rosie and the Originals, reminds him of Rose; Justin and I said, "Yeah..." and Justin said she used to play this one tape all the time with that song and a couple by Notorious B.I.G. - then rewind and play again, over and over.

I was on a rant to Justin this evening about how I "hate" video games and all those mediocre distractions from real greatness... But then I think about how she used to play Dr. Mario over and over, and my argument crumbles in my mind now.  I don't know what I really think about those or so many other things. Right now, I'd love to sit next to her on that old couch in Aguanga and play some rounds with the falling pills. Anyway, I used to love that dumb game and the way it could suck me in for a while. Maybe I still would.

How can Rose and William both be gone?  Loss can make you ask the same old questions, never fully un-stunned.

She used to tell me I'd be a good counselor.  Sometimes she used to ask me why I didn't even "do anything" (didn't shoplift, didn't drink much, didn't party....). She said, "Damn, you're like a nun."  A nun... I used to laugh and roll my eyes.... "Yep, that's me, alright - a real nun.," I'd say.

Five days ago, on 9/11, I thought of them both - Rose and William - because they were living with us when it happened.  For me, their deaths have become blended into that anniversary.

I have to go to sleep. When I wake up, it will be the real morning of September 16.